Confessions of a Crushing Craftsman
by TwelveTurquoise12
Summary: All Conner Bailey wants is to kill a dragon. And get a girlfriend. Preferably Bree Campbell. But he's just a poor little craftsman, trying to find his place in a world of killing and fighting when he can't kill and fight at all. Eh, at least somebody appreciates his wacky inventions. (A How To Train Your Dragon and the Land of Stories crossover)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

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'Tis another day for fifteen-year-old Conner Bailey.

Another ordinary day on the ordinary Isle of Laftor with the oh-so-ordinary attacks from dragons and the cataclysmic destruction that followed.

"Get down!" a man hollered and shoved Conner's head. The strawberry-blond boy grunted and ducked, and a fireball passed above his head.

"You should go back to the workshop," the man advised as he slammed his axe at a snarling dragon. His steely eyes glinted in the firelight.

Conner groaned, rolling his bright blue eyes. "But Jack-"

"No buts," another voice quipped in, and a shadow zoomed past Conner and Jack, her blonde hair flying in the breeze. It was Goldilocks, Jack's battle partner and wife. "Why are you out? Get back immediately."

"Fine," Conner grumbled, wincing as another fireball incinerated a house. "I was just trying to help."

Jack and Goldilocks had already sprinted into battle with matching war cries. Axe and sword in hand respectively, they cornered a Heartless Hood. Conner knew it had no chance of survival.

With wooden pillars and planks disintegrating around him, Conner slunk back home, ducking and hiding whenever possible. Fireballs exploded in the inky sky and he could smell the sweat and blood of his people. His slippery fingers loosely held on to his latest, unused invention, a new dagger/arrow hybrid.

"Watch it!" a woman yelled as Conner nearly crashed into her.

"Sorry!" Conner cried, spinning his head to look at the woman, but accidentally smashed into another person. Conner was unceremoniously knocked to the ground.

"Oof!"

It was a high-pitched, female voice.

Conner's face brightened up upon recognizing said voice. "Hey, Alex! How's it going?"

Alex's hair was wound into a tight braid. She wore her typical green and white robes with ancient runes stitched onto them. Her grim expression was replaced by one of worry when she caught sight of her twin. She dug her staff into the dirt and pulled Conner up. "You should be at the craftsman's workshop with Froggy," she accused.

Conner was getting tired of the constant reminders. "Yeeeeah, I'm going."

Alex nodded curtly. "Good." She peered up at the sky, the shadows of dragons flying past. Her eyes narrowed. "It's about time."

It didn't matter how many times Alex did it. Conner was still and would be fascinated by her, the melodic words, the powerful swish of a staff, and the magical light.

The gem on top of Alex's specially crafted staff glowed blue, and Alex muttered a few ancient words, sounding beautiful yet dangerous, foreign yet familiar. The girl swung the staff around to accumulate power, and finally thrust it upwards.

A beam of blue light pierced the smoky clouds above, and an ear splitting clap of thunder sounded. Rain poured down from the heavens, drenching the villagers but mercifully putting out the fires.

It was unfair, really, how Alex had inherited their father's magic ability, but Conner hadn't, even though they were twins. Alex was just allegedly seven minutes older than him! And it was unfair how Conner _sucked _at everything he did.

As Conner scampered away, he mentally recalled his peers and their skills. Arthur, like Goldilocks, was excellent at swordfighting. Bree used spike-studded whips, which was a curious choice, but it fitted her like a natural extension of her arm. Rook, despite his humble roots as the son of a farmer, was talented with throwing knives. Heck, even Bella- or Trollbella as everyone called her, was pretty good with a mace.

Conner had been clumsy at birth, hadn't had a drop of magic in his blood unlike his ancestors and twin sister, and somehow couldn't handle a single weapon. The only possible good thing about him was that Conner was creative and had a wild imagination, and was always dreaming up crazy ways to stop the dragons. Needless to say, they didn't always work, and caused more trouble instead of preventing trouble. That was why the masses made the unanimous decision to keep (read: imprison) Conner inside during every attack.

Fortunately for him, Conner was accepted as the apprentice of a craftsman, which gave him something to do. For someone with two left feet, he was oddly talented at arts and crafts. Conner wasn't much of a fighting person and didn't dabble in crafting weapons before, but after his father's sudden death a few years ago, Conner felt the need to do something, _anything, _to contribute to killing dragons. He joined the workshop and learned to repair and craft weapons for the others.

It was then Conner began to invent weapons with his new-found knowledge of crafting. He wasn't very good with the logistics, so he always asked the head craftsman Charlie, more commonly known as Froggy, for advice.

Conner liked to think he was good at inventing. His creations were… unprecedented and unexpected. However, not everyone appreciated his unrestrained creativity when it came to weaponry.

The familiar shape of the workshop rose out from the ashes. Conner flung open the door and hastily put on his apron. His eyes flitted around, and he stuffed his new invention in a drawer.

"About time!" Froggy called. "This night isn't going too good; we'll need to repair weapons quick."

"Yes sir!" Conner yelled. He grabbed an axe and began to sharpen it, careful not to injure himself.

As the boy worked, he glanced out of a window, observing the chaotic scene outside. Killing a dragon was everything on Laftor. After all, dragons had plagued them and their ancestors for centuries. They stole livestock, burned down buildings, and injured many. Conner shuddered when he remembered how his father, the late chief, had heroically dashed into a burning building to save a family. He remembered his mother's terrified screams and his sister's hysterical sobs. His father's body was never recovered. Before they knew it, the burden of being chief was laid heavily on the shoulders of the Bailey twins.

Naturally, as the older twin, Alex was the official heir, but if something happened to her, Conner also had to be prepared to rule.

Conner was determined to prove that he could be a dragon killer too. He had to protect his people from those dangerous creatures. Problem was, Conner hadn't even came close to injuring a dragon.

Killing a Berserk Beauty would definitely get him noticed. Those dragons were smaller and rounded in size, but with very tough, rocky skin and thick brown fur billowing on their back. Legend was it the guy who named the dragon mistook its silhouette for his girlfriend in a misty forest. Conner privately thought the guy was really dumb.

A Stalkcrusher? With a long, bright green neck and sharp teeth, it was easy to spot, but hard to approach. It snapped its jaws at anything that came close to it. Conner was pretty sure a net would work on the dragon, but no one listened to him, and they continued to attack it with their usual swords and axes and maces. Maybe Conner would be the first to try a new, improved method against the Stalkcrusher. And when he succeeded, he would bath in his new found glory and laugh in their faces.

Killing a Heartless Hood would probably get him a girlfriend. These dragons had retractable crimson scales that acted as a shield around its neck, hence the "hood" part. With hard, virtually impermeable scales and scorching fire, it posed as a terror and as a challenge. Conner hadn't really worked out a way against this one, but he was sure something would pop up soon,

Ah, the Grisly Glass! Conner had always thought the blue-tinted, spiky dragon was beautiful, but he couldn't voice out his opinions in a society that detested dragons. Translucent, venomous spikes grew on its tail and the dragon could fire them at will. It had a ridiculously high accuracy rate for a dragon. Conner didn't want to think of how many people had been impaled by the spikes.

And of course, the most elusive dragon of all, the-

"_Flare! Get down!"_

A blinding flash of light in the skies, then a boom that left Conner's ears ringing. Adrenaline rushed in Conner's viens, and a wide, terrified grin stretched his face. He dropped what he was working and rushed to peer out of the window to catch a glimpse of the nightmarish dragon, which frightened and fascinated him simultaneously.

The Flare was quick, bright, and deadly. It had the hottest fire known to mankind, sleek golden scales, and claws as dangerous as freshly sharpened swords. With its dazzling, fire-coloured wings, it was eye catching and all that, but even though the target was clearly visible, it was difficult to get a shot. The Flare was simply too fast.

Conner had been dreaming of shooting down a Flare. He had been working hard on a new catapult with improved speed and accuracy, in hopes of killing the beasts of all beasts. That would definitely get him a girlfriend and admiration from everyone on the island.

Why was Conner so focused on getting a girlfriend, you ask?

"Bailey! Conner Bailey!"

Well, Conner had a teeny, tiny (or not) crush on one of the most beautiful, perfect girls in existence.

"Umm, hello? Anyone home?"

(Okay, maybe not so tiny.)

And her name was-

"_Conner Bailey!"_

Conner finally spun, and the gorgeous, chocolate-coloured eyes of the love of his life stared back at him. Conner's mind went blank.

Bree Campbell.

Bree Campbell, the fearless warrior, who did not scream or faint even upon seeing the goriest of wounds. The calm and collected strategist, the pretty girl who didn't care what people thought of her, and the object of Conner's affections ever since they were both little kids.

Bree's blonde hair was in a long, messy braid over her shoulder. She wore her purple woolen hat as always, and Conner couldn't fathom how pretty she could be when she was literally fighting just ten seconds ago. When did glistening sweat become so attractive?

"Y-yeah, Bree, what do you want?" he managed to get out.

Bree eyed him curiously, then went back to business. "My whip broke, so I'm looking a replacement until it's fixed." She handed over her leather whip. A few of the iron spikes were missing, and a huge spike from a Grisly Glass had pierced through the leather. Something panged in Conner's heart upon seeing the miserable state of the weapon. After all, he was the one who'd crafted Bree's whip. "Ouch, that's nasty. It'll probably be fixed in a few days, so don't worry."

As Conner rummaged around the back for a replacement whip, Bree started to talk. "You okay? You looked a bit dazed just now."

A blush rose on Conner's face. "Nah, I'm fine, just a bit overwhelmed tonight."

Conner wasn't really close with the other teenagers as a whole. Alex, Bree, Rook, Arthur, and Trollbella all participated in training together, while Conner slaved at the workshop. It had always been like that since they discovered Conner had no talent in fighting whatsoever. He was on good terms with his peers, but they didn't speak much. Except for Alex, and maybe Bree. Bree was always interested in Conner's new inventions (which may be an act of pity, Conner realized) and helped him with figuring out certain parts. Conner was very grateful for that.

"It's hell out there," Bree mused, fiddling with her hair. "You're lucky to be in here."

Conner scoffed. "I'm only here because I'm useless at everything else."

The duo became quiet. The distant shrieks and roars of the fighting reached their ears.

"No, you're not useless. No one is. In fact, your weapons are pretty cool." A pause. "I-I like them a lot."

A sigh escaped Conner's lips. "There's no need to make me feel better." He turned, a new whip in his hands. "Does this fit?"

Bree tested out the whip's weight in her hand. "Hmm, pretty good." She smiled at Conner. "You know me too well."

Conner's heart stuttered, and his face turned bright red. "Of course."

_Of course I know. I've been making your whips ever since I was twelve, and I know what measurements suit you the best, and I know you only let me fix your weapons because you think the other craftsmen won't do it the way you like._

"See ya." Bree waved, and jumped off into the dusty, chaotic night.

Conner's eyes followed her as she left, a half-smile on his face. "See ya," he said softly.

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**A/N: I don't know why I wrote this. It's probably really messy with wacky characterization lol. Buuuut I just had the urge to do this when it was like 10pm. And you can bet I binge-listened to the HTTYD soundtrack as I wrote this. Bear in mind, my memory of HTTYD 1 is a bit rusty, so don't expect this weird oneshot thing to actually correspond to the movie. But Conner is definitely Hiccup, and Bree is Astrid.**

**yeAH I KNOW I should be working on **_**False Obsession Turned Real**_ **but this… just popped out of nowhere… sorry… **

**I haven't watched HTTYD 3 (I'm not calling it the Hidden World) yet but I hopefully will soon. So no spoilers, please!**

**For all ya HTTYD and TLOS nerds, the dragons I mentioned here correspond to the dragons on HTTYD. And vaguely based on some select fairy tales.**

**The Flare is based on the tale of Goldilocks, and corresponds to the Night Fury.**

**The Grisly Glass is based on the tale of Cinderella, and corresponds to the Deadly Nadder.**

**The Heartless Hood is based on the tale of Red Riding Hood, and corresponds to the Monstrous Nightmare.**

**The Stalkcrusher is based on the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk, and corresponds to the Hideous Zippleback.**

**The Berserk Beauty is based on the tale of Beauty and the Beast, and corresponds to the Gronckle.**

**As an added note, Laftor (the setting) is a shortened form of the Land of Stories. I took the "la" from "land", the "f" from "of" and "tor" from "stories" :)**

**As I said, I don't **_**know **_**what I'm doing here, so I don't know if I'll continue this thing. But as always, please tell me your thoughts! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

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**A/N: Warning, Conner is slightly OOC. That's because I basically merged him with HTTYD 1 Hiccup, and made him a tad emo.**

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The attack that night was the worst on Laftor in a couple of months.

(People liked to say that it could be worse if Conner Bailey was let loose in the village.)

The village was constantly destroyed and repaired and torn down and built up again. According to the Elder, who was Conner and Alex's grandmother, it had been like that ever since she was born. An endless cycle of creation and destruction.

Early morning light shone through the windows. Conner was snoring, limbs sticking out randomly from his blanket. His room was a total mess of sheets of paper and stray books.

_BRIIIIING!_

Conner grunted and slammed a hand on the object on his bedside table. It was a curious mismatch of cogs and bells. Froggy called it the "alarm". Conner's mother, Charlotte, had complained about her son's reluctance to get out of bed, and commissioned Froggy to craft something that could wake him up. Now its shrill bells invaded Conner's ears every morning.

"I'm up," Conner mumbled to no one in particular. "I'm up."

He stumbled out of the room, avoiding the chaos on the floor, and went down the stairs. Charlotte was out for some "chieftess duties", and Alex was still asleep. She deserved some rest after her exhausting night.

If there was one other thing Conner was good at, it was cooking. Granted, he nearly burnt down the kitchen on his first try, but he'd done pretty good despite his rocky start.

He hummed to himself as he fried two eggs. He grabbed a handful of herbs and sprinkled them on the eggs. Then, he laid the eggs on two pieces of sliced bread he'd brought home yesterday.

"One for me, one for Alex." Conner took the plates to the living room, and plopped down on the leather couch. He raised the bread to his mouth and began to chomp with gusto.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase. A sleepy Alex shuffled down, her white nightdress reaching her ankles. "Morning, Conner," she greeted.

"M'ning," Conner said in return, his voice muffled by the bread in his mouth.

"Don't speak with a full mouth," Alex reminded him. Conner sighed internally. Alex was always like a second mom to him.

Alex reached for a plate. "Thanks for the breakfast, though. You've always had some talent with seasoning."

_Yeah, like what good is there in that. Making food taste better doesn't help with killing dragons. _Conner's inner voice liked to sass himself.

Conner quickly swallowed his breakfast and grabbed his satchel. "I'm going to the workshop. We have a lot to do."

"Alright, have a good day! I'll wash the dishes."

The moment Conner stepped out of the door, his face was assaulted with flying flakes of ash. He coughed and frantically brushed them away.

The air was still hazy from yesterday's mass burning of wood. Buildings creaked, and fallen debris was yet to be cleared. Shards of wood and pieces of metal littered the ground. Broken planks stuck out haphazardly. Their great village was once again reduced to ruins. Men and women alike were moving a gigantic fallen beam that blocked one of the main roads. Conner wished he had the strength to help them.

Conner scurried across the village to the workshop. Fortunately, the workshop wasn't destroyed. It would cause a great deal of trouble if the main place for repairing weapons was out of service.

"Dude!"

Conner beamed upon hearing that familiar voice. "Freddie!"

Fred was one of the other craftsmen at the workshop. Being four years Conner's senior, he was technically an adult and worked full-time at the workshop. Unlike Conner, Fred also participated in fighting against the dragons when there were attacks. And he became muscular after the blood, sweat, tears he had poured into crafting weapons (Conner was still rather skinny). Fred was one of Conner's friends and they became close after the years they had spent crafting together.

"Good morning to both of you," Froggy greeted politely as he strolled inside. "Sorry, I was a bit late…"

Fred smiled knowingly. "Your fiancée kept you?"

Everybody knew Froggy was engaged to Red. They were busily preparing for the wedding, and according to Froggy, Red was very picky about everything from the exact shade of colour of the chairs to the sort of icing on their wedding cake.

"Something like that. Now," Froggy rubbed his hands together. "Let's get down to business-"

"To defeat the dragons," Conner mumbled under his breath automatically.

Froggy looked at him. "I actually meant to repair the weapons but whatever floats your boat…"

Conner went to his work table, and slowly turned Bree's broken whip over. He observed the damage, then put on thick gloves and attempted to yank the Grisly Glass spike out. It didn't budge an inch. Conner gritted his teeth and pulled harder.

"Gotta be careful with Glasses," Fred commented loudly over the din of him hammering on a sword. "Their venom can kill an adult male in a minute."

"I think it's dried, though." Conner panted and peered the dried white liquid on the tip of the spike. "Heeeey, this spike is pretty sharp, do you think we can use it as a tool?"

Fred chuckled. "Maybe we can if you manage to get it out."

Conner was still huffing and puffing, gloved hands clenched around the base of the spike.

"Come on dude, where's your muscle?" Fred teased.

With one final grunt, the spike came out, and Conner nearly fell down from the force of it. He awkwardly walked to a basin of cool water and washed the venom off. The result was an icy blue, translucent spike that glittered attractively in the workshop's firelight. It would be so pretty if it wasn't so deadly…

Conner put down the spike, and returned to inspecting the whip. He needed to create a few more iron spikes. Which meant Conner was going to spend hours by sweltering furnace in unbearable heat.

But for Bree, it was worth it.

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The lunch break came. Froggy, Fred and Conner were all dirty and sweaty from their hard work.

Fred lightly punched Conner in the arm. "Dude, you stink."

Conner winced exaggeratedly to show his disgust. "You stink even more, Freddie."

Fred picked up a bucket of clean water and poured it over Conner. Conner grabbed another bucket and splashed it over Fred. It was their way of quickly washing up before lunch.

"Charlie!"

A sharp female voice invaded the workshop. Conner and Fred groaned simultaneously. They knew what was about to happen.

A young woman with elaborate braids and intricate crimson dress barged into the workshop. She sniffed the air and her face scrunched in displeasure, but her expression quickly turned sunny when she saw her fiancé.

"Charlie! Let's leave the peasants and discuss what flowers we'll use for the wedding decorations!" the woman sung cheerfully.

"Sure thing, Red," Charlie replied good-naturedly. As Red practically dragged him away, both Conner and Fred saw the look in his eyes- one that screamed "take care of the workshop as I probably won't be back until half a decade later".

"Umm, bye?" Conner waved as the couple bustled out of the door.

"We gotta go too. I'm _staaaarving_." Fred drawled out the last word.

They ambled of the workshop and joined the masses of people on the streets. As they walked, Conner's eyes skimmed over the familiar places. The ominous arena with spike-studded nets. The healer's hut, adorned with growing pots of herbs. That was where the Elder lived. Conner caught a whiff of the salty sea air and knew they'd reached the port, with boats idly bobbling along the water.

The duo then followed the cobblestone path to the Great Hall, a giant majestic structure that served as their communal hall. Humongous statues of their ancestors flanked the door. The inside was lit with blue candlelight, a special type of magic fire (one of Alex's creations) that gave out light but never burned skin.

"Yo, Freddie!"

Conner spun to see Fred's grown up friends calling for him. Conner always wondered if Fred felt awkward being seen with his dumb, fifteen-year-old colleague (of sorts). After Fred bounded away, a solidarity Conner went up to his usual bench. He grabbed a plate of mutton and some potatoes, and slid quietly to his seat on the edge of the bench.

Conner sat with his peers almost every day. He tried to include himself in their conversations and they let him, but they usually talked about training and Conner couldn't relate to that. Today, Arthur and Bree were chatting about new moves, while Rook was glaring at Arthur. Trollbella was wolfing down her food at record speed. Alex was absent, but Conner was sure she would appear sooner or later.

"Hey," Conner greeted the teenagers.

"Hey," Rook and Trollbella replied half-heartedly, with Rook distracted by Arthur and Trollbella by her food. Arthur made no reply but Bree gave Conner a little wave.

"I'm fixing up your whip," Conner informed Bree. "Making decent progress so far."

"Good to hear. Training's not the same without my whip." Bree casually swept away a strand of blonde hair in front of her face, and somehow that little action made Conner's brain short circuit.

Alex then entered the Great Hall, and Conner watched as Rook and Arthur's eyes lit up. He audibly groaned and pretended to gag. Bree put her hand to her mouth to conceal her giggles. Conner knew both Rook and Arthur had big crushes on Alex. If Conner had his way, he would've pummeled them to a pathetic mash. Unfortunately, he was about as powerful as a slug when it came to combat. Which was to say, not powerful at all.

Alex seemed to have taken more interest in Arthur. "The Double As", Bree had called them. It wasn't a surprise, as Arthur was the best in dragon fighting among their little group, and Alex had magic on her side. They were the aces, the shining gems of their village, and Rook was just a farmer's son. Conner felt a little bad for Rook (just a little though). At least Rook wasn't some random craftsman with a knack for _spicing food, _of all things.

"Good afternoon," Alex said to the gang, but everyone could see that her eyes were focused on Arthur only. She sat down beside Arthur, instead of Conner like she used to do. Conner scowled and stabbed his mutton with venom. After this boy had decided to screw with his sister's heart, Alex sat less with Conner and more with Arthur during mealtimes. Conner was irritated, as he knew he would never, _never _dump Alex for Bree. And _he_ was the one with the childhood crush!

As the teenagers shifted to accommodate Alex, Conner suddenly found that Bree was in fact, sitting next to him.

_Oh gods._

Conner stared hard at his food, desperately trying to ignore the goddess next to him. Sweat was gushing out of his sticky palms and boy, he probably stank a lot, and he was still in his ugly, shabby uniform-

"Y'know, I took your suggestion to squeeze lemon juice on fish."

Conner whipped his head. "What?"

Bree calmly put down one half of a squeezed lemon. Conner could see the translucent lemon juice on top of her salmon. Then Bree took her fork and dug into her meal. "Tastes good." She gave Conner a grin.

Conner's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, tastes good," he repeated absentmindedly.

"Maybe you should become a chef," Bree idly remarked.

Conner snorted. "Huh, then who'll fix your beloved whips?"

"Fair point. But honestly, you have a second sense for food." Bree wrinkled her nose. "More like a second _taste_, I shall say."

There was a brief pause, the only sounds being the hustle and bustle of people next to them and the munching of food.

"By the way, how's your new contraption going?" Bree asked and tossed her dangling blonde braid behind her.

"Umm. Which one?" Conner asked in all honesty. He had too many ideas bursting from his brain at the same time, and ended up ditching most ideas after spending like an hour working on them. His focus leapt from here to there like an overexcited rabbit. For those few ideas who survived Conner's ever changing mind, Conner attended to them alternatively, sometimes staying up all night to work on one project, sometimes letting the blueprints lay in the dust for several weeks. Conner's inspiration was vastly unpredictable, and sometimes even he himself couldn't keep track of his ideas.

"That catapult thing to shoot down the Flare," Bree said as if it was obvious. "You've been working on it for months."

Thankfully for Conner, Bree, with her clear mind, was always there to remind Conner.

"Oh." Conner moaned and banged his head on the table repeatedly. "That catapult is ridiculously stubborn; it just can't work the way I want it to! I've given it range, but the accuracy and speed is terrible. And the net it shoots out just gets tangled up halfway and-"

Bree patiently listened to Conner ramble about his unfortunate catapult. Unknownst to Conner, she rather enjoyed seeing his animated hand gestures he did whenever he shared his creations. It felt like Conner became an entirely different person whenever he could talk about something he loved. You could see he poured his passion into crafting. Something had sparked that fire inside him and it ignited his entire body. His eyes became bright stars that rivaled the glow of the Flare.

Too bad no one else really saw that side of him.

"Perhaps you need some time to clear your mind," Bree suggested after Conner had finished his spiel.

Conner sighed, dejected. "Yeah, maybe you're right. You wanna come to the workshop and help me figure some things out?"

Bree pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the table. "Sorry, my schedule's packed today. I have training, then I need to cook for all three of my sisters. I would love to come, though."

Conner tried not to show his disappointment, but his sagging shoulders gave him away. "It's alright, I understand."

Bree had picked up Conner's true feelings. She frowned and was about to reply, when Goldilocks invaded the hall, banging open the doors with unnecessary force. "Get your asses up! It's time to move!" she hollered at the teenagers. Most of them hastily scrambled to their feet and shoved their food away.

Goldilocks was the teenagers' trainer when it came to dragon fighting. She was a nice person, but rather ruthless and demanding. Not even Bree dared to oppose her. And Bree did a lot of risky things, including sneaking into Conner's room one night (it wasn't what it sounded like!) and jumping off a cliff into the sea.

Conner could only watch as Bree and the other teenagers rapidly piled their plates and hurried away, leaving Conner behind.

Conner raised his hand to wave, but froze midway when he realized no one was looking in his direction.

"Bye, I guess?" Conner's words echoed in the open air.

The teenagers pushed open the doors and let in a small beam of mellow light, opening a window to the bright sky. Then they thudded shut, leaving Conner alone in the dimly lit, blue tinted Great Hall.

Silence.

Conner lowered his head, suddenly feeling very small in the vast space. He moodily used his fork to scratch on his plate.

_Why can't I be like them? Why can't I train with them? Why do I have to be so useless?_

His cold fingers gripped his fork. He knew he was trying to make everyone see he could be of some use too, but so far, he was failing miserably. Most of the public didn't care for his creations. They thought he couldn't be anything if he couldn't handle a single weapon.

_Wait. _

Conner's eyes flashed liquid blue.

What if he _made _a weapon he could handle? What if he crafted something that was suited to his needs? Conner had the experience and materials. He even had Bree and Fred and Froggy to help him.

The catapult.

He could make it.

He could fix it and change it and improve it until he could operate it, then use it to shoot down a Flare and bathe in all the glory.

Conner's body trembled with excitement and anticipation. He was looking so forward, he nearly forgot the many problems his catapult was facing. He slammed his plate down, the bang attracting the looks of many others. But he didn't care.

Yes, that was what he wanted to do.

He would prove them all wrong.

Conner strode to the doors and confidently flung them open. Then, he stepped into the daylight and out to the world.

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**A/N: Wow, this got depressing real quick. Eh. I feel sort of weird writing such a sad Conner though. At least he cheered up at the end! :D**

**I've written a second chapter, and I still have NO idea what is going on. I'm freewriting. Don't ask me what'll happen, because I'm just going to let this immersive universe carry me away. I feel like it has a lot of potential but I don't have enough energy on my hands to fully develop it.**

**(Random fact: I'm writing this using THE Comic Sans, because apparently it helps?)**

**Thanks for your review, **_**rubyfairy588**_**! I watched HTTYD 3 and I think it was okay… plot could be better, Hiccup was frustrating to the MAX, but the animation and soundtrack were absolutely gorgeous. And the iconic "save me". The chills baby. Oh the chills. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

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**A/N: I deliberately made Conner's behaviour a bit childish and immature. In addition, he's also more attention seeking than usual because he tends to be ignored in this AU (a nod to Hiccup initially being the outcast at Berk). So yes, he may be OOC. This applies to the entire fic.**

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Conner ambled through the village of Laftor, clutching something in his hands. He did not appear to be in a hurry, nor did he appear to have the intention to test something. Despite that, the villagers still looked at him with apprehension. They'd seen too much of Conner Bailey's screw-ups and was automatically on guard every time the boy stepped into their view. Conner was used to their strange glances, and hummed cheerfully to distract himself.

He'd finally finished repairing Bree's whip. He was now making his way to the Arena, where the other teenagers trained on a daily basis. Even though he was sweaty and exhausted, he still wanted to give the whip to Bree in person.

The Arena loomed in front of him. Conner could hear excited screams and Goldilocks' commanding hollers even from a distance. How much did he long to join his peers in their training! The Arena was an open-air circular structure made out of stone, and the top of it was covered by a mesh net complete with spikes. That was to prevent the dragons from escaping. The dragons were usually kept under lock and key, but would be let out for dragon training.

He spotted two familiar figures cheering at some commotion below. Conner squinted and saw Rook and Arthur dueling each other, while Alex and Bree watched. Good. Bree wasn't training right now.

"Good afternoon!" he greeted the girls. They spun to look at him briefly before returning to the fight. Conner supposed the duel _was _mildly interesting. Just mildly.

"It seems like Arthur's going to win!" Alex exclaimed heatedly. Conner carelessly glanced down at the fighting duo. Arthur was swinging his sword and Rook was attempting to parry the attack with a shield.

"Well, Arthur _is _talented at swordfighting," Bree replied logically (Conner was somewhat glad she wasn't getting all fangirly over Arthur). "I'm sure he would lose if only daggers were allowed."

As if one cue, Rook stumbled and fell, brown hair flopping over his face. Just as he was about to hit the dusty ground, Arthur stretched out a hand and grabbed Rook's arm to steady him.

"Good game," Arthur said jovially, voice echoing through the otherwise empty arena. "Your reflexes are improving."

Rook was panting, his face red with exertion. Conner saw him not-so-subtly sneak a look at the audience. Doubtless he was searching for Alex's reaction. Conner did not want any involvement in the gross love triangle that concerned his sister.

"So anyways," Conner started to say, but Alex and Bree were still enthusiastically discussing the duel. He coughed, but they paid him no attention.

It was kind of depressing that two of the closest figures in his life were ignoring him. Conner was getting slightly irked.

"AS I WAS SAYING," Conner boomed out of the blue.

Startled, the girls spun to him. Suddenly embarrassed, Conner found himself at a loss for words. "Umm, Bree, I finished your whip!" he cried and practically shoved it in her hands.

A beat.

"Thanks," said Bree. She carefully turned the whip over and inspected it intently. "Hmm, excellent craftsmanship as always."

Conner laughed. "Yeah, I spent a lot of time working on this. Glad you like it!"

Alex looked at him curiously. "I thought you're supposed to be working right now?"

Conner scratched his sweaty head. "I'm on a break. Can't bear the stuffy workshop any longer. The others can handle it."

"Good luck," Alex and Bree said automatically.

"You guys too," Conner replied. He would've loved to stay a little longer, but they were all busy. He had his crafting and they had their training. Bree was shifting, as if she was getting ready.

"It's Bree's turn next," Alex explained. "She's going to duel Trollbella."

"And we're going to use axes," Bree told Conner. "Trollbella's raw strength is going to kill me."

Conner patted Bree's shoulder. "You'll be fine. You're waaaay smarter, after all." He quickly realized what he'd said. "Umm, no offense to Trollbella," he peeped.

"You better be glad she isn't here." Alex took a quick look at her surroundings. "You'll be her next target practice if she hears you say that."

Conner gulped. Trollbella and her fiery temper were not one to be underestimated.

"Next up, Bree versus Trollbella!" Goldilocks roared. Bree immediately stood up and strode calmly to the Arena.

"She's going to slay this," Alex hissed, eyes bulged wide with thrill. Conner began to think Alex was just really eager to see her friends in action. (Unless Alex also had a crush on Bree, which would be unfortunate for Conner. Imagine his very own sister dating his crush!)

"I know," Conner grinned. Bree was _awesome _at fighting, even when she was not using her preferred weapon. "Too bad I'm not going to be here to witness it."

"It's honestly impressive how Bree can juggle so many things yet still excel at all of them," Alex marvelled. "Gods, I _love _that girl."

"Same," Conner responded automatically. His face immediately flushed red but thankfully Alex didn't mention it. (She was probably too used to him mooning over Bree all the time.)

"Speaking of juggling tasks, I better go back." Using his thumb, Conner pointed in the direction of the workshop. "Froggy's already stressed due to his marriage stuff, best not to push him further."

* * *

After a session of rigorous training, Bree dearly craved rest, but she had to go to work. Bree entered the seamstress' hut (she was working part time there) and her eyes swept past the looms and colourful thread and yarn, searching for a familiar figure. Women were knitting, weaving, repairing clothes while enthusiastically chatting with each other. The seamstress' hut was a place full of gossip and rumours, and somehow everyone who worked there had something to share each week. Bree didn't talk much (she was never interested in gossiping), but she'd gained a lot of insight into certain villagers ever since she started working there.

"Hi, Bree!"

Bree spun to look at the cheerful young woman who had just called her name. It was Danielle, the nineteen-year-old girl who was in charge of basket weaving. Danielle was technically Bree's "manager" of sorts, but to be honest, their relationship was more of a friendly one than a job-based one. Danielle's two short auburn pigtails framed her face as she grinned at Bree.

Bree sat down besides Danielle and they began to weave baskets from dried grass. It wasn't a task that required much thinking and Bree often found herself daydreaming during her job. But today, she had something important to discuss with Danielle.

Bree cleared her throat to attract Danielle's attention.

"Hey, Dani? It's honestly been great working here with the others, and I've learnt so much, but I'm thinking… maybe it's time for me to work somewhere else."

Danielle looked at her, but she didn't seem surprised. "Sure," she said after a moment of pondering. "We have enough people on hand, and you're still young, feel free to experiment."

Bree let out a breath of relief. "Thanks." Danielle had taken it rather well.

"Where are you planning to work at?" Danielle asked.

"Oh, the leather workshop," Bree replied casually. "I kind of know how leather works as my whip is made out of it, and I think I have the suitable skills to start out."

"Cool." Danielle absentmindedly reached over and grabbed another blade of grass. "You also hang out with that chieftess' son, right? He can probably teach you a few things."

"Yeah, Conner works with leather quite often." A smile appeared on Bree's face. "After all, he's always the one to fix my whip."

Danielle sighed. "At least he's decent at repairing weapons…"

Bree frowned, but didn't comment. She knew most of the villagers looked down on Conner, and obviously she had tried to argue with them to no avail. Conner had too much evidence on destroying the village. It was almost like he was making himself purposely difficult to argue for.

But talking with Danielle was actually the easy part. Bree had to negotiate with her parents, and she wasn't sure if they would allow her to switch jobs. While Bree preferred spontaneity, they preferred stability. Bree couldn't blame them as they had been struggling to make ends meet for several years. But ever since her and her younger sister Evelyn "Evie" started to work part time, their situation started to improve. Soon her other sisters would be able to work and their parents could finally rest their scarred and calloused fingers.

After her shift at the seamstress' finished, Bree hurried home in the dusk. She looked up at the darkening sky to make sure the dragons weren't coming tonight. How much did she hate those beasts! Not only did they steal their crops they oh-so-carefully grew from grain, they also burnt down their houses. That was why Bree made it her life mission to eliminate as many dragons as possible.

Sometimes Bree wondered if she was juggling too many tasks at the same time. She had to provide for her family and also train to be a powerful warrior. And that were just Bree's obligation. Secretly, she had always dreamed of sailing the world and recording down her adventures, but Bree knew it was an impossible dream. For one, she would never leave Laftor when the dragons were still raiding them, and besides, she _needed _to have a stable job. It wasn't something optional.

It didn't help that Bree, as the eldest daughter of her family, was expected to marry when she became of age. And then she would have to bear children and clean the house and be stuck in the domestic sphere unless it came to raids. As depressing as it may sound, Bree was practically confined to the smally, rocky island of Laftor.

It wasn't all bad. Bree had friends and she was well respected for her fighting skills. She was a good strategist, and women and men alike listened to her. Which was rare, according to Goldilocks, considering Bree's young age.

Bree opened the oak door to her house. "I'm back," she greeted.

Her younger sisters were busily setting up dinner. Her father was probably still chopping wood outside. Bree took one sniff of the food and privately thought they would taste much better with Conner's spices. As Conner was practically a joke to the rest of the Campbell family, Bree didn't say much. She was already looked down for being friends with Conner.

During dinner, Bree broke the news to her family. They didn't say much once Bree told them the pay was higher at the leather workshop (that wasn't the only reason Bree wanted to switch jobs, but she knew it was one her family cared about the most).

Bree told them she would work at the seamstress' hut for two more weeks, then a week at the leather workshop as a trial. After that period, the head of the workshop, a strict young man named Xanthous, would decide whether she was accepted as an apprentice.

"Good for you, sweetie," Bree's mother said absent-mindedly as she picked up a piece of fish and put it on Evie's plate. "That way, you can learn how to fix your whips and stop relying on that Bailey boy."

Bree's eyebrows furrowed and she gripped her fork tighter. "Mom, I know he keeps on accidentally damaging the village, but he never fails to repair my weapons. Or anyone else's weapons for that matter."

Bree's mother sniffed. "Don't let his dangerous attitude rub off you, Bree. You're an accomplished warrior and a smart young woman, let it stay that way."

Bree didn't want to argue with her mother; it would just be a waste of her breath. Besides, Bree had her own freedom, she could see Conner at any time.

* * *

"Hey, whatcha got there?"

Conner instinctively moved his arm to cover the piece of paper he was drawing on. "Nothing," he said automatically.

Fred chuckled at Conner's protectiveness over his drawings. The boy always doodled during his breaks, and he mostly preferred to keep his drawings to himself. Many times, Fred suspected Conner was drawing Bree, and was too embarrassed to let his lovesick side show. Well technically, Conner didn't have much to hide. Conner's crush on Bree was not the most subtle, and considering Fred spent half of his time around Conner, he'd witnessed several very… amusing incidents concerning Conner and a certain blonde.

Fred leisurely took a swig of berry juice someone had dropped off for the craftsmen. He'd actually seen some of Conner's Bree drawings before, and honestly, they were so cute. Conner was never the realistic sort of artist especially when it came to drawing people, so Bree's eyes were just two black dots. Fred was impressed how Conner managed to nail down Bree's bangs, and how he could convey her expressions and emotions through simplistic lines.

"You know, Bree hasn't stopped by for quite some time," Fred commented "nonchalantly". (He was obviously trying to gauge Conner's reaction.)

Conner sighed and ran his hands through his sweaty hair. "She's been busy, busier than ever… can't be blamed…"

"Ooh, feeling down, lover boy?" Fred teased.

"Shut up." Conner flicked a finger at Fred. "By the way, can you help me with something?"

"Hmm?" Fred raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm not legally allowed to help you with your inventions. For the 'betterment of society', they say."

Conner puffed at the bangs in front of his face. "Fiiine," he drawled. He pulled out a piece of parchment. "So, _hypothetically_, where would you put this gear in this hypothetical machine?"

Fred followed Conner's gestured and peered at the messy sketch. "Hypothetically, I would place it next to this lever, and I think hypothetically, a small gear can be added."

Conner nodded gravely and began to amend his sketch. "Thank you for your help in this hypothetical situation."

Fred chuckled, caught sight of a girl outside the workshop, and gave a flirty little wave. "No problem, I mean, it's all hypothetical, nothing is real, right?"

"Absolutely," Conner told him, but the smirk on his face told a different story. Fred knew Conner was probably working on something again, something that could be potentially dangerous, but he didn't have the heart to stop him. The world really was too harsh on that 15-year-old boy.

* * *

Yet another ordinary day on the Isle of Laftor. The morning was mercifully dragon-free, but Conner had his hands full. Apparently everyone on the island decided it was prime time to repair their weapons. As Conner scurried through the workshop, picking up orders and cooling down iron, he barely had any time to work on his new catapult idea. Which was a shame, as for once, Conner really, _really _wanted it to work. He was ready to sacrifice his sleep to make it perfect down to the very last nail. And this was coming from a kid who was practically married to sleep. It wasn't often an idea lasted in his mind for more than two weeks.

"Conner!" Froggy hollered from the other side of the workshop.

"WHAT?" Conner yelled back over the din. He then sighed dramatically. "Don't tell me it's Red again-"

"Can you help me get some leather scraps from the leather workshop next door?" Froggy asked, raising his voice over the clamour of someone hammering on metal.

"Sure thing!" Conner darted through the other people in the workshop and exited through a small door by the side. The leather workshop was literally next door, so the moment Conner opened the door, he directly entered into the sufficiently cooler, quieter leather workshop. The familiar smell of leather surrounded him from all sides, and Conner inhaled deeply, glad to have some time away from the hurly-burly of craftsmen. Then Conner realized the head of the leather workshop, Xanthous, wasn't in.

Just as Conner was about to ask around, the doorbell tinkled and in stepped Xanthous and… Bree?

Bree was looking gorgeous, as usual. The golden daylight fell around her like shimmery silk, lighting up her face and silhouette.

Conner was suddenly aware of how his chaotic his hair was, how he must really stink and how disheveled he looked from running around all morning. He immediately ran a hasty hand across his forehead to wipe off the sweat. God, he looked so stupid in front of Bree- wait, what was she even doing there?

A very unsophisticated "WHAT" stumbled out of Conner's mouth.

Bree swept her cool eyes over him, as calm and as breezy as always, and said,

"Hi. I'm going to work here."

Conner was dumbfounded. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. "W-what? You're _working _at the leather workshop?"

Bree shrugged a little, then smiled. "Yep."

"Oh!" The corners of his lips lifted automatically. "I guess- I guess we'll be seeing more of each other from now on!"

Conner was aware he was looking very dumb right now. There was a huge creepy grin stretching across his face. The entire workshop was gawking at him and probably going "oh, it's that weird Bailey boy again".

Bree was staring at him with a quizzical look. "Yeah, that's great… " she said slowly. "By the way, don't you have stuff to do?"

Conner jolted. "Yeah! I got… stuff. Umm. Yeah. Leather scraps."

The area was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Xanthous, probably taking pity on him, robotically stretched out a hand and handed him a basket of leather scraps. Conner's cheeks and ears were burning red from mortification. Without a word, Conner scampered back into the craftsmen's workshop.

His heart was racing, pounding, almost as if it was going to leap out of his ribcage

_Bree _was working next door.

Well, at least she wasn't working with him. Conner wouldn't know how to function.

* * *

**A/N: This is kinda messy… oop. Lmao Conner's being bullied by so many people ;-; I'm sorry Conner.**

**Not really in the writing mood right now, so sorry for the probably mediocre chapter. Ahshajaja the plot is going EVERYWHERE. Also sorry for any mistakes, I'm tired and my proofreading isn't the best. **

**Thanks for reading and the lovely comments, please review! :D**


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